Artist's works can be seen downtown to Drayton Mills

STORY BY STEVE WONGFrom Spartanburg Magazine

Tuesday

Mar 6, 2018 at 12:01 AMMar 6, 2018 at 2:15 PM

Hoondirt. Now, there’s a name you don’t hear every day. You’re much more likely to hear something conventional like “Cody Roberts.” But Cody -- who from this point on in this article will be referred to as “Hoondirt” -- is anything but conventional. At least, that is what he aims for.

“The way I see it,” the bearded artist with big fashionable glasses said, “if you’re not different, you’re the same. Where’s the fun in that?” On a recent day, he was standing on Main Street, Spartanburg, pointing out the many pieces of artwork scattered about. Every few minutes someone would yell, “Hey, Cody,” and he’d throw up a hand or run over for an animated conversation. He’s obviously well known by those in the downtown community.

Hoondirt is a Spartanburg-based artist who specializes in metal sculptures, things like minimalist bikes, little blue people, big rocking chairs, and horses with holes in them. He also does functional metalwork, usually with a bit of Hoondirt flare. Unlike many artists, Hoondirt stays out of the mainstream of Spartanburg’s arts community. He’s connected and he networks with some of Spartanburg’s most influential citizens and businesses, but he’s not a member of the Artists Guild of Spartanburg or West Main Artists Co-op. He didn’t know the City of Spartanburg received a $1 million grant to install artistic lights throughout the city. And even though he has many of his works in downtown Spartanburg, he was unaware that Spartanburg was one of the first cities in South Carolina to have a designated “Cultural Arts District” -- the exact area where his work is most concentrated.

“I purposely avoid the mainstream,” says the 43-year-old single dad of two sons, Farron Koy Roberts, 20, and Drayk Paris Roberts, 16. “The less I know about local art, the more creative I will be. I try to not take ideas from other artists. I like doing things at my own pace, having freedom. I failed at art class in high school. That’s been my whole life story. Maybe I’m an idiot savant?”

Yet, he wants to be recognized for his art, and he’s willing to go to the extremes to make an impression. Once, when he was interviewed by a television news reporter, he wore a wolf mask — much to his father’s bewilderment. On his unfinished website, he wears a face-concealing welder’s helmet. But when given the opportunity to be profiled in print, his first and adamant request was that the article is not conventional. “I don’t use social media or have a fantastic website because it is something I cannot acquire,” he sort of explained. “I refrain from doing so because I find it far more intriguing to remain aloof. So many people wear their life on their sleeve, like a billboard advertising how great of a restaurant they may be. I happened to be a big fan of mom-and-pop diners who nail it out of the park without promoting themselves because they put out good products, and word-of-mouth reigns supreme. I am nothing on social media, but everybody I know is on board. I treat myself like a buried treasure waiting to be discovered.

“Throughout history, the masked man has always been intriguing to me,” he continued. “I think it creates interest in a bizarre way. Who knows, maybe I just like making myself look like a schmuck. I remember I wore a lion’s costume to school in third grade, and it wasn’t even Halloween.”

But naming yourself “Hoondirt” begs for an explanation. When Hoondirt was just getting started as an artist in 2007, he was welding scrap metal together to make bicycle sculptures at his workshop at his father’s bowling equipment company -- A1 Bowling Co. on Nazareth Church Road -- when a skinny, sickly, and probably homeless man began to give him unsolicited technical advice on welding and creative suggestions on sculptures. The stranger would literally hold the artist’s hands to aid in the welding and would leave sketches of suggested sculptures. The only name the man ever gave was Jon, but the artist dubbed him “Hoondirt,” a made-up descriptive name that he eventually adopted as his own.

“At this point in my career, I’m just glad I didn’t nickname him Honey Bear.”

Poetically, “Hoondirt” was the name given to the artist’s first exhibit at the defunct downtown coffee shop Cafe Ishi, an exhibit that included skeletons riding bicycles. The artist had hoped his namesake friend would come to that exhibit, but he didn’t, and Hoondirt – the artist — hasn’t seen Hoondirt — the inspiration — since. But the name lingers.

“Perhaps I’m a coward for using a nom de plume,” he pondered. “However, there’s something remarkably comforting that if somebody doesn’t like my sculpture and thinks it sucks, I can say, ‘I didn’t make it — that was Hoondirt.’ Either way, I sound like a moron.”

Hoondirt came to Spartanburg in 1990 from New Jersey, when was 15 years old, because of his father’s work. His Jersey accent is now faint, but it’s there. He graduated from the old Dorman High School in 1992 and then “dabbled” in philosophy at college but never received a degree. In the years since, the self-taught artist, who “just did it,” has found his niche, and his art has found its way to Facebook’s Data Center in Forest City, N.C.; Spartanburg Downtown Memorial Airport; garage-rocker Jack White of The White Stripes; Wofford College; and most recently the upscale Drayton Mills. His works include a giant rocking chair that symbolizes the South’s inclination toward relaxed conversation, horses and their influence on foothills culture, a bike-riding robot holding colorful balloon-like wheels, and an airplane that is displayed at an angle, not to his exact liking.

“This makes me think of a quote from Woody Allen’s movie 'Match Point,' " Hoondirt said, looking for words to describe his success. “The man says about his newborn child, ‘I don’t care if he’s successful. I just hope he’s lucky.’ That’s really what I’m dealing with here. Any successful person would be lying if they said they made it without the luck factor. I’m sure there are other artists equally as talented, if not more than I am. I have 110 percent understanding of how lucky I have been.”

As his art has grown creatively and in demand, it has also branched out. Most recently, he was asked to take some of the leftover metal found in the renovations of Drayton Mills and to make two community tables for The Standard, “a refined kitchen” from the noted Rick Erwin Dining Group. They are the two large tables that flank the bar as you walk in the door. They are made of sheets of repurposed metal on repurposed metal beams. The table tops are remarkably smooth but retain a worn industrial look with splatters of paint and hints of rust. Throughout the complex of commercial enterprises and apartments are iconic sculptures made from old textile equipment, office fixtures, and whatever else a cotton mill might have once used in its day-to-day operations. These pieces of cobbled-together historic artifacts are now purely decorative and reminders of what Drayton Mills once was.

Hoondirt was brought on to help with Drayton Mills’ metalwork needs through real estate developer John Montgomery, who met the artist through another business person when he was doing work for Pacolet Milliken Enterprises. “Spartanburg is lucky to have such a creative person who specializes in metalwork,” Montgomery said, noting that Hoondirt has also done work for his family. “It’s been fun to watch him take salvaged materials that would have otherwise been trash and turn it into art. He was referred to me by someone else who had used him. I found him by word of mouth. He’s a hard worker, does great work, and always exceed my expectations.”

“I believe anyone who calls themselves an artist should be diversified,” Hoondirt said in regards to the variety of art and metalwork he’s done for Drayton Mills. “You should challenge yourself. I learned a great deal from working at Drayton Mills. I am very grateful.”

As a result of Hoondirt’s tapping into the artistic wants and needs of the business community and those individuals who can commission his work, he is one of the few artists in Spartanburg who can claim to be “full time.” For years, he worked for his father, and on occasion, he still lends a hand at making bowling equipment.

“I got lucky,” he admits when he considers that word-of-mouth is pretty much how he gets his business. “I can look in the mirror and say that I’m a full-time artist. I’ve wanted that for a long time, and it’s super cool.”

Despite sidestepping the established arts community, Hoondirt claims Spartanburg as his own: “It’s great to be accepted. I feel loved by this town. They’ve taken a chance on me.”

Now with the luxury of name recognition, Hoondirt is not pressured to showcase his work in classic exhibition style, but exhibiting is something he’s done and may yet do again. “I love putting on art shows, especially in the early days of my career,” he recalled. “It was a great outlet to get rid of my ideas that keep me up at night. Personally, my art shows are just things that I would love to see. I have a final art show brewing in me that will hopefully blow minds and rip faces off — like a high-five to Spartanburg – or simply just delight the public. Either way, it’s going to be a humdinger.” Don’t expect to see it promoted on Facebook, but expect the unexpected.

Right now, he’s lining up work with the Montgomery Building where he is being commissioned to produce 22 computer tables, using the wreckage from the building’s renovations. Also, on his radar is to use his welding talents to make brackets to support televisions at the much-celebrated AC Hotel by Marriott in Spartanburg. “I’ll put a little Hoondirt on them and they’ll be cool,” he predicts. “They (developers) know me and trust me. When they’re happy, I’m happy.”

Spreading a little Hoondirt goes a long way in Spartanburg… and beyond.

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